


Struggle

by WiseDraco



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging Dean, Bottom Dean, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7471686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiseDraco/pseuds/WiseDraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No.</p><p>No he is not okay. He so far from okay he’s on a different fucking planet. He’s on a different fucking planet, in a different fucking solar system, in a different fucking universe, on a different fucking plane of existence. So, no he’s not okay.</p><p>“‘m fine Sammy.” Is what he responds with though because he can’t very well tell his baby brother that he’s not okay because he hasn’t had a freakin’ orgasm in five fucking days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my computer for about 2 years. I go through these periods where I'll write and write and write 10 different things at one time and then I stop because ...well because my muse hates me mostly. Either way, there is a continuation. Hope you like it!!!!
> 
> *I am rethinking the title btw. I just came up with something on the fly.   
> **Scientifically I realize that no man would in his right mind would let this continue but I'm asking to suspend the disbelief until I can actually rework this.   
> ***deadgloves was kind enough to point out that I should add a few more tags. Thank you!!!
> 
> Ever Lovin',  
> Sam

He’s been at this for what feels like fuckin’ hours. And really, it’s startin’ to fuckin’ hurt. Which only serves to piss him off and make him try harder and make him hurt more.

It’s a vicious fucking circle of pain and anger and pain and anger and oh yeah let’s not forget the small, little, tiny issue of the fact that he can’t come.

Dean Winchester, orgasm extraordinaire, sex fucking god, can’t. Fucking. Come.

“Dammit!” He yells at the top of his lungs and apparently it’s loud enough to rouse Sam up out of his research haze because Dean hears a knock on the bathroom door over the roar of the shower and Sam’s voice asking if he’s ok.

No.

No he is not okay. He so far from _okay_ he’s on a different fucking planet. He’s on a different fucking planet, in a different fucking solar system, in a different fucking universe, on a different fucking _plane of existence_. So, no he’s not _okay_.

“‘m fine Sammy.” Is what he responds with though because he can’t very well tell his baby brother that he’s not okay because he hasn’t had a freakin’ orgasm in five fucking days.

Not since …well not since The Incident with Cas. And yeah …it’s a big enough deal for him to use the word ‘Incident’ to describe it. Dean shudders under the water that has long since gone cold at a particular memory from The Incident and shoves it away. Thinking about that is the very last thing he needs to do.

He looks down at his five-day-hard dick and s _cowls_. “I fucking hate you.” He tells it and it just twitches in response. “Hate.” He hisses again and twists the cold water knob on full blast, hoping that it will make his erection go away …at least a little.

Five minutes and one too many thoughts of Bobby in a freakin’ speedo later, his dick is deflated, if just slightly. But with the way things have been going lately all it’ll take is a warm breeze and he’ll be giving anyone within a ten-foot radius a standing ovation.

“Dammit.” He curses again and rips the shower curtain open so hard it tears. Somehow Dean manages to ignore the overwhelming urge to pull the entire curtain down just for the sake of destroying something. He wraps a towel around his hips and presses down on his crotch with the heel of his hand, which does absolutely nothing.  He looks at himself in the mirror and points a finger at his own refection.

“Tonight …you’re getting’ laid.” He says with confidence because even if his hand isn’t doing the job a woman certainly will. His reflection, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to agree, because even though Dean is pretty sure he’s smiling, Mirror Dean doesn’t return the gesture.

He doesn’t take that as the bad omen he knows it to be.

~

Pissed doesn’t even began to cover it.

Because she was fuckin’ hot. Crazy hot and even though Dean put on a good fuckin’ show the only thing that filled the condom he was wearing while fucking whatever her name was, was his spent dreams.

Dreams that he could come. Just once. Just one fucking time. But …no.

He’s been through six different women in a three-day span and he’s even starting to call himself a slut. But he’s so desperate. So strung out and jittery and can’tstopmovingcan’tstopmoving it’s ridiculous.

The girl -Amanda? Crystal? Jenny?- leaves in a flurry of giggles and perfume that makes Dean’s nose itch, calling over her shoulder for Dean to ‘call me’ in a soft coo of a voice that makes him want to punch something. He doesn’t even bother with a wave, just slams the door behind Giggles and collapse onto ‘his’ bed.

Eight days.

It’s been eight days and he hasn’t come.

And the thing is …the longest Dean has ever gone without an orgasm is twenty-four hours. Well …aside from his little stint in Hell. Other than that though, it’s never been more than a day. In fact …it’s usually twice a day. Even with all the hunting, all the killing demons and the ever looming apocalypse, Dean still gets his time alone with his dick and a copy of Busty Asian Beauties. Because, as weird as it sounds, he _needs_ that; not just for the satisfaction that comes with a great orgasm but he needs it because it’s the only sliver of normalcy in his life.

Which might make him sound a little gay but whatever. The idea of sounds ‘a little gay’ took a flying leap on the Empire State building after The Incident with Cas happened.

Dean bolts up in bed, _Cas_. This is Cas’s fault.

He hasn’t come since Cas and he …did …things.

“Cas!” He shouts, standing up and shoving a leg into his jeans. “Cas dammit!”

The dark haired Angel appears in front of Dean so suddenly, The Hunter squawks and would have fallen over if it hadn’t been for Castiel reaching a hand out to catch his shoulder. Dean pretends it’s the threat of almost falling flat on his face that causes a shiver to rock up his spine and not what it actually is; skin to skin contact with Cas.

Dean shrugs the hand off his shoulder and rights himself, finally managing to get his other leg in his jeans. 

“Hello Dean.” Castiel says and Dean shivers again. That voice. Even before The Incident, Dean noticed the deep rolling smokiness of Castiel’s voice. And the thing is …it is actually Castiel’s voice.

It’s Jimmy’s body. Jimmy’s mouth and Jimmy’s hair and Jimmy’s skin but Jimmy never sounded like Cas does.

So Cas’s voice …is all his own.

Dean breaks himself out of thought and glares at the Angel. “Don’t you ‘Hello Dean’ me. What the fuck did you do to me?”

Cas just blinks those too blue eyes. “I’ve done nothing to you Dean. I just arrived. Unless you are referencing my arrival, I did not mean to frighten you.”

Dean growls, “Your _arrival_ isn’t what I meant.”  

“Then I do not know what the fuck I did.” And dammit, Dean wants to stay pissed but when Cas says shit like that, so innocently, like he doesn’t know what ‘fuck’ means, Dean can’t help but smile a little.

Then Dean remembers what the problem at hand is and is right back to scowling.

“You did something to me and I want to know what you did.”

“What did I do?”

“You know what you did dammit! You did it!”

Castiel only blinks at him. “You should tell me what I did so that I may remedy it.”

Dean works his mouth and looks around suspiciously even though he knows it’s just him and Cas in the room. He looks down at himself and gestures to his crotch. “You broke it!”

Blue eyes follow down the line of his body and back up again. “I broke what?”

“My dick Cas, you broke my dick!”

Castiel looks confused for a moment. “Is this sarcasm again?”

“No _Cas_! As funny as a broken dick is, I’m not joking!”

“As I have not touched your ‘dick’ since we engaged in coitus I am unclear as to how I broke it.”

How? How in the bleeding fucking hell can he _say_ that so fucking nonchalantly? Maybe it’s because he calls it coitus? Dean tries his hand at the word and still blushes. It’s not like he’s ashamed of sex …hell no. It’s just …sex with Cas had been different.  Dean refused, flat out refused, to think about why it was different.

“You broke it during …er after …that.”

“That?”

_Dammit._

“The sex Cas. After we fucked!”

Castiel just blinks at him. “Are you unable to urinate?”

Hell.

 Dean sits on the bed with a thump. He’s never gotten exhausted just talking to someone before. A big part of him really likes that he has to be so literal with Cas, Dean’s not so good at subtly, but at this particular moment, when focusing on this particular subject …he really wishes Cas just _got it_.

“No man. I can piss.”

“Then how is it-”

Dean focuses on the Angle’s eyes which, like always, are watching him so carefully.

“I can’t come Cas.” And before he can ask ‘what do you mean come’, Dean holds up a hand. “Orgasm. I can’t orgasm Cas.”

“Oh.” Castiel’s shoulders shift under his coat and he sits next to Dean. “Perhaps you are doing something wrong?”

Dean slaps a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “Cas, seriously. I’ve been beatin’ my meat for like seventeen years. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Did you try pleasuring yourself anal-”

The Hunter can’t let him finish _that_ sentence. “Yes. Nothing.”

The dark haired man considers this, “Have you tried coitus?”

“Yes Cas.” Unexpectedly he feels the Angel stiffen next to him.

“And you did not orgasm?”

Dean shakes his head. “No Cas …I tried with six different women and nothin’.” Something occurs to Dean and he freezes. “Did you turn me gay?! Do I have to fuck other dudes now-”

A hand clamps down on the same shoulder with Castiel’s mark and Dean shudders. “No.” It’s one word, with no explanation but the finality in it just makes Dean nod his head. 

Dean swallows audibly and leans his body to the side, slipping his arm out from under Cas’s hand. “Alright. So then you explain why I can’t come since it’s your fault.”

“Perhaps we should have sex again.” The statement drops in the middle of the room like it weighs more than the Impala and Dean blanches.

“No. All kinds of no Cas.”

The Angel looks adorably confused. “Why?”

Sputtering and red faced Dean opens his mouth. “B-because!”

“Because?” Cas prompts.

“Because we can’t! We shouldn’t have then and we aren’t gonna now.”

“I fail to see why we cannot. I had a …good time and judging by the unconscious state you were in for a few minutes afterward you had a good time.”

A blush races to Dean’s cheeks so quickly he feels a little lightheaded. “Cas. No.” Castiel lifts an eyebrow but keeps his mouth closed. “Anyway …you need to undo whatever it is you did.”

“Dean, aside from what you can plainly see, I did nothing to you.”

“Well you must have done something!”

Cas shakes his head. “No. I did nothing.”

Dean tangles his hands in his hair. “Then what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You are perfect.”

Something about the way the Angel says that resounds in Dean but he ignores it. Cas is always sayin’ weird shit. “Cas I can’t come. That’s a problem.”

Silence settles over the pair and Dean just keeps rubbing his head, trying to wrack his brain for a reason why.

“Perhaps I could to giving you permission.”

The idea is so fucking ridiculous Dean has to go over it three times in his head before he can even come up with a response. “What?”

“You have tried physical stimulation in all ways.” Cas reasons. “And when we were engaged in …sex you orgasmed when I told you you could.”

“ _That_ was a fluke.” Dean tells him, dismissing the idea altogether.

“A fluke?”

Dean nods. “I was caught up in the moment.”

“As you have dismissed the only ideas I can think of I fear we are at an impasse.”

“That’s it? That’s all you got?”

Castiel inclines his head. “Yes. There are other issues at hand that I must attend to.” And he’s gone in a flutter of wings.

“Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

He can’t sleep now.

It’s been three days since he last saw Cas and that was brief. They’d been hunting a ghost just outside of Atlanta and the Angel had dropped in just in time to save Dean’s ass from being shish kabobed by a steel pipe. He’d barely had time to set fire to the talisman that had the ghost’s hair in it before Cas was gone again.

Three days before that, was the conversation about The Incident. Which means it’s been fourteen days since Dean has come. Fourteen days. That’s two weeks. That’s three hundred and thirty six hours, which is twenty thousand one hundred and sixty minutes. And Dean knows that because he can’t sleep and when he can’t sleep he’s on Sammy’s computer looking up anything he can to distract himself.

Because now …he’s hard _all the time_. He’s achy and needy and fuck he wants to come so badly he’s even willing to entertain the idea of having sex with Cas again even though it was so very wrong. It _felt_ so very good but it _was_ so very wrong.

What? He’s got scruples.

“Dean!” Sam shouts next to him in the front seat of the Impala, breaking Dean out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Keeping still is a fleeting idea now; all Dean does is drink coffee and drive. And if he can’t do either, or both, he’s on Sammy’s computer.

So this is Dean’s life now. Coffee, driving, and research.

“Dean …seriously. Calm down a little.”

Dean shoots a look at his little brother and then back at the road in front of him. Back and forth, back and forth. “Can’t be calm Sammy m’boy!” He shouts and Sam flinches.

“Dude …no more coffee for you.”

At that the eldest Winchester looks down at the empty cup between his legs. “Need more coffee.”

“Dean no. No more coffee.”

“I’m out which means I need more.”

Sam gives him bitch face number twelve which translates into ‘what the fuck?’ “Seriously Dean. You’ve been like this for days. What the fuck is your issue?”

Dean is back to jittering around in his seat like he’s a fuckin’ junkie and had he had any sleep at all over the past thirty two hours he’s sure he wouldn’t tell Sam the truth but as it stands …

“Can’t sleep Sammy. I can’t sleep cause I can’t get off.”

“Dude!”

“Not once. Not for two weeks.”

Sam waves his hands in front of himself like he’s trying to erase the conversation from the very air. “Dean! Shut up!”

“Just sayin’ Sammy. You asked, so I told. That’s how this works. You ask a question and I give a answer! I give a answer if you got a question!”

Sam is just watching him talk, mouth open. “Alright, not that I actually want to know but what the hell are you talking about you can’t come? Not six days ago you were with like eight different girls.”

Dean shakes his head rapidly. “Nope. Was six and that,” He points in the air. “Does not work anymore.”

“It doesn’t work anymore?”

“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.” Dean’s leg is shaking and his hands are flying across the wheel. “Cas broke it. Or I broke it.” He freezes suddenly. “Holy shit!” Dean slams on the brakes, sending Sam head first into the dashboard.

“Dean what the fuck?” Sam all but screams, rubbing his forehead and thank God they’re on an empty road because they’d be dead otherwise or they would have killed someone else.

This doesn’t seem to faze the older Hunter at all. “This is punishment!”

Back to bitch face numero twelve. “What?”

“Punishment for defiling an Angel.”

Sam stops rubbing his forehead and swings his gaze to his older brother. “Please, do not tell me you and Cas had sex.” Dean opens his mouth but before he can get anything out Sam is talking again. “Dean! Do not tell me you fucked an Angel of the Lord.”

“I didn’t.” Dean tells him, shaking his head and Sam lets out a sigh of what sounds like relief. “He fucked me.”

“What the fuck Dean?!”

Dean’s hands leave the wheel to fly up in the air. “I know! Never thought I’d be a bottom but there it is.” He ignores the fact that his little brother has his hands over his ears and is now singing ‘Take me out to the Ball Game’ as loud as he can. “But now …now I can’t come any more and it’s punishment because I defiled an Angel.”

Dean stops talking and Sam peers over, taking his hands down. “Well he defiled me.”

“Dammit Dean!”

“Sammy it’s not even blue balls anymore …it’s like _purple_ balls.” But Sam isn’t listening, he’s just flat out _yelling_ the word ‘baseball’ now. How rude.

~

Forty minutes later they’re in another crappy motel room, in another crappy town Dean can’t remember the name of, which is okay considering he didn’t even want to stop driving but Sam had _insisted_.

Bitch.

He feels a pillow slam into his head when he’s on his forty-fifth trek around the room. “Dean. If you can’t stay the fuck still then leave. ‘m trying to sleep.”

“Yeah. I’ll leave …sounds good. Saw a bar down there. Bars good. I’ll drink. Get drunk enough …I’ll sleep.”

“Great! Leave.”

Dean nods and pulls on his leather jacket. “Seeya Sammy.” He doesn’t catch his brother’s response but swears he hears something crash against the door when it closes behind him.

~

Before he even gets the chance to sit down the bartender is telling him to leave.

“Don’t serve junkies here. Get out.”

 “I’m not a junkie.”  Dean protests but even as keyed up as he is he can see how bad he looks; eyes blood shot, face flushed, clothes rumpled. He sure as hell _looks_ like he’s jonesing for a hit; too bad the hit he needs he just can’t get. The bartender looks at him again and points to the door and Dean just sighs, shaking his head. “This is bullshit.”

“Don’t care. Get out …or Tiny here will help you out the door.”

Dean smirks and waggles a finger at the bartender. “I’ll just bet Tiny is anything but tiny.”

“You’d be right.” He hears a voice behind him and turns almost smacking into a brick wall of a chest.

“Fuck you’re tall.” Dean comments and backs away quickly. A fight. A fight might be good, could help him unwind. “Don’t you think it’s a little cliché to call yourself Tiny? Haven’t you ever watched TV? All the big scary guys are always named Tiny.” The big man reaches out and grabs Dean’s arm but the Hunter breaks away easily.

Tiny throws the first punch after spending the next minute and a half chasing Dean around the bar, pain _explodes_ in Dean’s stomach but he barely registers it. He rolls his body away from the next hit and strikes out to land a blow on Tiny’s nose, smiling when he feels the cartilage give way with satisfying crunch.

That’s the only hit he gets though because Tiny is on top of him just wailin’ on his ass. Distantly he hears a voice that’s familiar warn something he can’t understand and just as Tiny is about to strike him again, a pale hand flies out of nowhere and grabs the meaty fist.

“That is enough. He is leaving now.”

Tiny though, doesn’t take the hint and makes a move to hit Dean another time only to have that same hand that was holding his fist smack into his chest and send him _flying_ backwards six feet through the air. The whole bar just stops and everyone looks at this man dressed like a rumpled tax accountant who took out someone at least a foot taller with more than two hundred pounds on him like he was _nothing._

Dean’s coffee and lack-of-sleep buzz leaves right along with his adrenalin and he smiles at the Angel.

“Cas …buddy!” Dean says, a little lightheaded and God he’s suddenly so tired.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel tells him, helping him to his feet and draping Dean’s arm over his own shoulders. Dean knows Cas could just haul his ass up and chuck him out the door but he really appreciates that Cas is saving what little dignity Dean has left.

The patrons of the bar go slowly back to their conversations until there is a familiar cocking of .22. Castiel cranes his head towards the sound and Dean shudders when he felt the Angel’s Grace pulse through the room gently.

“We are leaving Henry, put your weapon away.” The bartender, jaw open in wonder, nods slowly and sets the shotgun down. “Thank you.”

Cas turns back and walks out the door, Dean leaning heavily on him and groaning in pain when his body twists slightly. It suddenly occurs to Dean that he’s in pretty bad shape. One eye is swelled shut, his ribs hurt, and his head is starting to throb pretty badly.

“Think I got a concussion Cas.” He mumbles and feels a bed press against his back. That doesn’t make sense though, because they are still outside the bar and there aren’t beds outside.

Two fingers are suddenly against his forehead and the pain singing through his head and torso vanishes completely. Just as suddenly though, the constant erection he had momentarily forgot about is back, pressing its way through his jeans. Castiel pushes a little harder, trying to heal that last of Dean’s bruises. He’s successful but the feeling of all that power riding along Dean’s skin is just too much and something inside him _snaps_.

He cries out harshly, hips bucking up, trying to gain friction on his aching cock. God he is so far gone. That little piece of himself he keeps locked away from everyone is even starting to lose grip, starting to slip in fall into some dark twisting abyss Dean can’t see.

Because right now Dean just wants. He’s strung out so hard, body drawn tight like a bow string and the only thing he wants is Cas.

Cas filling him up.

Cas licking his mouth.

Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, _Cas_.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear himself begging, he’s pretty sure they are actual words but Castiel isn’t touching him at all now and dammit Dean can’t handle this. He opens his eyes and somehow manages to pin the Angel down with his gaze; a feat he knows he’s never been able to accomplish before.

“Cas …” He moans, hips rolling gently and is thrilled to see his Angel a little more than a little effected by their current predicament.

“Dean.” Castiel growls and Dean bites his lip.

“C’mon Cas. Help me out here.” He mumbles lowly, lifting his hips up like an invitation.

“Dean.” Castiel warns again and Dean knows he’s pushing it, just like last time. He knows the last time they did this it was his fault, wasn’t lying when he said he defiled the Angel. Technicalities aside. Dean’s the one that enticed him, the one that pulled him into his bed, spread himself open and swallowed Castiel up like it was all he ever wanted.

There was something so deliciously _dark_ about that whole experience, something so empowering about watching a being that is so fucking _regal_ just fall apart because of Dean.

The Hunter reaches down and yanks off his own belt, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. Castiel stops him though, wrapping a cool hands around Dean’s wrists, “Dean, look at me.” Green eyes shoot up to meet blue and God Dean is so desperate he’ll do anything Cas wants him to as long as it ends with Dean coming. “I want you to do something for me.” Dean nods franticly; anything, he’ll do _anything_ Cas wants. “I want you to come. Right now. _Come_.”

Dean’s orgasm attacks him from behind, whole body locking up so tightly a single touch could shatter him and he all out _screams_ , voice going ragged almost immediately. It keeps going though, thrumming just under his skin and it hurts so fucking good tears spring to Dean’s eyes. His hands are clawed, fingers twisting in the bed sheets so hard the material rips like paper.

“C-Cas …” He moans helplessly, back still arched off the bed. “Oh f _uck_ Cas …” The Angel pushes their bodies together and begins to whisper in Dean’s ear. Words Dean can’t understand but he takes comfort in the smooth deep tone that rolls over his rigid body.

Finally his breath comes back and his muscles go lax, jumping every now and again in response to the pleasuring still pulsing through him.

Dean whimpers softly when he feels his jeans get pulled down his legs because he’s too sensitive to be touched. The last thing he feels before slipping into blissful sleep is a set of warm, chapped lips press gently to his sweaty brow.

“Goodnight Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? :D:D:D:D:D:D


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